Day One
by xEccentricxGirl
Summary: When Elliot Greenwall, CIA angent, awakes to the moaning of zombies, she knows she has work to do. Things might have even worked out if not for one little problem, two mysterious people she doesn't remember are making a documentary of her.
1. Chapter One

Chapter I

Elliot Greene awoke to two sounds; two sounds that would change her life, her plans, her future, and her views on the world as she knew it.

The first sound was the loudest. It was a sound she had heard before, one that would have struck fear into the hearts of almost every other person on the planet. Elliot knew this sound all too well. The cacophony of wails, screams, and moans were unmistakably those of the living dead, and Elliot was well educated in the department of zombies. Her position in the CIA's covert department of the study and annihilation of the zombie race had taken her to places and situations overrun with the living dead, and she knew them better than probably any other person on Earth.

That sound she was prepared for; her entire house was built solely on the precedent that it must be fit for a zombie outbreak and attack. And so it was, with its ten foot concrete walls, reinforced steel walls, and first rate security system, this building was a good place to be when there were thousands of zombies howling outside your bedroom window.

And Elliot's first thought was one of pride in herself at accomplishing all this, and a feeling of confidence in the fact that she could survive this.

But those thoughts were scrambled by the second sound.

The sound of two voices saying two words.

Two words that began a series of events that would alter Elliot's life forever.

As Elliot opened her eyes, she heard the two words spoken from the two people standing at the foot of her bed. In unsion, the woman with the microphone and the man with the camera said,

"Day One."


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter 2

Early morning light silhouetted the two figures. One, a woman, was taller and walked with a longer, more confident gait, and tightly grasped a wireless microphone in her right hand. Every now and then, a zombie ambling nearby would make a lunge at her or her comrade and she would use the microphone to smash in its skull or whack it to the ground, every time she was able to incapacitate them with a single blow. She did all this while keeping a straight, nonchalant face, and without getting any blood on her impeccable navy suit.

The man beside her was the opposite in demeanor. Short and hunched over, he scurried alongside the woman, an expression of open terror on his face. He clutched a medium sized video camera in his arms, and wore an old pair of jeans with many holes, a plain gray t-shirt, and a tattered brown jacket. He would give a small yelp every time a new zombie would make a move for them, but it was always covered by a sharp thwack as the foe fell to the ground.

The woman became more and more animated in her strikes as the road wound up a hill. As they neared the top, the large house at the end of the road came into view. Surrounded by a tall concrete wall, and gated by a steel door, the three story house was imposing and intimidating. She felt a sense of growing excitement as they walked up to the gate.

She turned to the man beside her and pointed at the wall.

"Up."

"B-but-"

"Do it. Now."

"I could fall-"

"So?"

He sighed and put the camera in his companion's outstretched arms, then began to climb carefully up the wall. He found he was just able to grip in between the concrete bricks, and within a minute or so he was sitting on top of the wall. Below however, was yet another obstacle.

"Um, what am I supposed to do about the Dobermans?"

"Oh, I forgot to mention them. You'll just have to run."

He knew there was no point in waiting; it would probably just make her mad. So he closed his eyes and inched over the side, till he was hanging just out of the dogs' reach, then let himself drop. The rest was more of a blur, as he raced to the front porch and found himself climbing up the wall to get on top of the awning. Once he was on top, he saw his pants were even more torn then before at the cuffs, and his sneakers needed yet another patching up. He sighed and stood up to climb into the window beside him.

He jumped down onto the thick white carpet beneath him and was all too aware of the trail of stains his shoes made behind him as he quickly surveyed the room he had entered. It was simply furnished with only a few chairs, a small sofa and a coffee table, and a short book shelf. At a glance, he saw the shelf was only half full with a series of thick encyclopedias.

The man stepped quickly and with purpose out of the room and turned right down a long, wide, hallway to what appeared to be a balcony that overlooked a large entry room. He went down the simple staircase toward the large front doors, but paused just as he was about to unbolt them. He turned and looked around him, and noticed a swing door on the other side of the atrium. He jogged to it and found, as he had hoped, a kitchen on the other side.

After a quick survey of the expansive devices and appliances, he spotted a fridge and upon inspection of its freezer, he found some small slabs of red meat. Taking the first two he touched, he rushed back to the front door and quickly unbolted and opened it. The dogs were both already poised to pounce, lips reared back in a horrific snarl but the man had little time to take that in before he threw both steaks as far as he could away from the gate. As both dogs ran toward the slabs of meat the man raced to the gate and quickly unbolted it and let his companion in.

Before shutting the gates, he couldn't help but notice the large pile of bodies strewn about the lawn motionless and silent. Shuddering, he swept up the camera from the arms that had ended their lives and started to film as the two walked into to large estate before them.

Locking the door behind them, the two ascended the flight of stairs and went back down the hallway, the man shooting their simple surroundings as they passed; the lack of art on the walls and creativity in décor was all too noticeable. At the end opposite the overlook, they met a spiral staircase that led to the next floor and they continued up. At the top they were met with a row of doors, and the man followed the woman down to the last on the left. The woman gave her brunette coiffed hair a quick flip it didn't need and straightened her already straight suit before silently turning the gleaming knob to the bedroom beyond. Quietly, the pair took their positions at the foot of the bed before them, the man standing a few feet back, so as to get the shot of the woman standing and the other sleeping woman.

His comrade counted down the seconds on her fingers behind her back as she continued to look at Elliot Greenwall, and the calm, relaxed expression on her face that the woman knew, even hoped, would never be seen again. As Elliot Greenwall stirred and opened her eyes, the man and woman said together,

"Day One."


	3. Chapter Zero

Chapter 0

Nathon Hareds sat slouched over the bar at the first diner he had seen after he had been walking for a few hours. The hospitals had become overcrowded over night, according to her sources, and she was suspicious; and so she had sent him scouting. He looked down at the piece of notebook paper she had handed him. Her straight, harsh handwriting spelled out a list. The list consisted of symptoms not unlike those of the common cold. Fever, nausea, paleness, coughing or wheezing, things seen everywhere this time of year. But he knew she wouldn't see reason, and so he focused on looking for someone who had the last clue she had given him. Someone who had been bitten by another person.

He sipped the last of his water and brushed back his dark hair before he stepped out of the diner without ordering. He didn't have any money anyway. She never paid him. He walked down the cold streets of the city, studying the faces of the people he passed, wishing his life was simple, like theirs.

He looked down at the watch on his wrist, and saw it was already almost noon. She was expecting him at the apartment building in just over an hour, and if he had no news, it would just make her angry. He sighed and turned around, knowing she would surely punish him somehow, even though he had nothing to take away, and he already lived a life he hated. There was not much she could do to make things worse.

As he passed an alley, a man stumbled out of the dim and lunged for his shoulder, surprised, Nathon jumped and almost fell, but recovered and helped the man regain his balance. He was wearing a suit and tie, and held a briefcase in his right hand. He was gripping his right shoulder with his left hand, and he was deathly pale.

"Please," he wheezed, "Help me."

Nathon helped the man walk to the nearest shop, and found himself back in the same diner as before. He half dragged-half led the man to the nearest booth and sat him down, he rushed to the bar.

"Some water, please." The young blonde lady behind the counter, the only other person in the diner now, rushed to the sink behind her and filled the first glass she saw. She handed it to Nathon and he ran back to the table. The man, with generic features and brown hair, was gasping and was close to passing out. Nathon put the glass on the table and the man shakily took it and took a few sips. Nathon could see blood coming between the fingers of the man's left hand.

"What happened to you?!" He asked urgently, trying with difficulty to keep the excitement out of his voice.

"I- I was on my lunch break….took a shortcut through the a-alley….chick came outta nowhere….t-tried to mug me I think….took a b-bite outta my shoulder….I whacked her with my b-briefcase." The lady had come over now and was trying to get the man to move his hand so she could clean the wound. Nathon was in awe at his luck, and after a few seconds he had gathered his bearings and was out of the door, leaving the waitress and man staring after him in shock.


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter 3

Elliot's immediate impulse was to jump up and knock out both intruders in one blow, but she had only sat up before a stronger instinct told her to calm down and think.

Obviously, she had a few problems.

Number one being that there was a pretty huge zombie outbreak.

Number two being that she had some things to get done in order to fix problem number one.

Number three, people had somehow gotten into her house.

And number four, she had no idea who they were or what they wanted, but judging from their attitude and the video camera, she had to assume they wanted more than just money.

"Uh… who are you?" She finally croaked, stepping out of bed carefully, poised to attack at any moment.

But instead of answering her question, the woman stated, "Over night, the majority of the region has reanimated into hideous monsters that hunger for living flesh. My associate and I plan to document this event trough the eyes of one of the only people left." With that, she turned toward the camera man and said, "Our subject," She paused and looked toward Elliot with a raised eyebrow.

"Dr. Elliot Greenwall." Elliot answered, dumbstruck.

"-has quite a day ahead of her." With that, she put the microphone in her pocket and the man turned off the camera.

"Um." Elliot began, than snapped out of the trance the woman had momentarily tricked her into, and hurried to the window, careful to keep the duo in her line of sight. With a quick motion, she flipped the edge of the curtain so that she could see out side.

Even through her small line of sight, she could see a few dozen zombies slouching along the streets. _If the outbreak had made it all the way out here_, she recalled, _then most of the city must be in turmoil._

She stepped away from the window and faced the visitors. "I don't who you people are, or what the hell you want with me, but I will not let you put my life in jeopardy. I'm not going to kick you out, because then I'd end up just killing you later. So for now, I'm going to put you to work. If you don't like that, then please," she said smiling, "feel free to leave."

She walked out the room then, not bothering to see if they were following her or not. While she led the way down to the front door, she wondered if she was making the right choice, but decided that dwelling on it anymore would just cloud her mind, and she knew that a clear mind was key in situations like this.

When she reached the foot of the front stairs, she turned around and the pair behind her paused halfway down.

"You two will need to pill down all the steel sheets over the first story windows." She walked over to the front door and slid a small, shoulder level portion of the wall over to reveal a hidden key pad. She leaned down for a retina scan and quickly typed in a code containing at least ten digits. Then, over every window in sight, the top panel of border surrounding the window swung up and a roll of steel netting protruded from the wall. Elliot walked to the nearest one and pulled the sheet down and latched it to the bottom panel of border. "Just do that on every window on this story. And please, do it as fast as you can. There's this room, the kitchen, the dining room, and a bathroom that have windows. Don't leave a single one unprotected."

Elliot then walked back to the door and opened it. Both of the dogs ran in and sat at attention in front of their master. After leaning down and giving both a scratch on the head, she pointed up the stairs and both dogs ran up and out of sight, leaving the man squeezed up against the railing, a look of fear easily apparent on his face. That was when Elliot realized she was still wearing her blue pajama pants and gray tank top.

"Okay. I'm going to go take a shower while the water's still running. When you're done with that, go through all the first and second story bathrooms, there's one on this story and two on the second, and run the bath water. Who knows long this will last, and we need to take advantage of all the water we can while we can. I expect the windows to be done by the time I get back." Then Elliot left the two behind and jogged back to her room.

"Well," the woman said when Elliot was out of sight. "You'd better get started, Nathon." And she walked into the kitchen to find something to eat.


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter 4

"She's coming. Turn on the camera."

Nathon jumped at the unexpected command and hit his head on the shower head he had just turned off. He turned around to find the woman the voice belonged to standing in the doorway of the small bathroom.

With one hand still clutching the spot on the top of his head that luckily was not bleeding, he reached over and switched on the camera sitting on the cabinet. No sooner had he done this and picked it up then Elliot walked past the room and stopped. Now, her hair was up in a messy bun and she wore some grey knee-length shorts and a blue t-shirt.

Careful to keep both women in the shot, Nathon aligned himself in a way to film.

"Nice work. Looks like the first floor is secure." Glancing down at the digital watch on her left wrist, she continued, "It's about eight o' clock, so if you are hungry I'll show you the kitchen and where you can sleep." She then turned around and started down the short hallway they were in toward the stair case. Nathon made a move to follow her and walked out of the door, past his companion who stared at him menacingly before following.

Filming the entire way, they were led up the stairs and down a small hallway, and met Elliot in a large kitchen. After showing them where all the food, mostly energy bars, sandwich and salad ingredients, and enough water to keep a small African family alive for weeks, she told them to eat only three small meals a day, so their supply would last longer. Then she led them back out of the kitchen and into a different hallway.

She opened the first two doors nearest to the stairs, and told them that they could each sleep in one. the woman immediately moved to the room on the left, and so Nathon peered into the one on the right, to find that it contained a small simply furnished bedroom containing only a twin bed made with blue sheets and a light comforter, a nightstand with an alarm clock and lamp, and a set of drawers.

He only had a few moments to look inside before Elliot told them she had some work to do in the garage, and that they should eat something, then continue filling up the bathtubs. "By then, I'll be done. I'll come find you." Elliot then walked quickly away and down the stairs. By the time she was out of sight and earshot, and Nathon turned back to the other woman for further instructions, she too had disappeared.

Not sure whether to be glad she was gone, or scared that she might not be for long, he found his way back to the kitchen and hurriedly ate a small sandwich. he could tell it would be a long day.

...

Elliot was thinking the exact same thing as she opened the door to the garage below. Flipping the switch by the door, the garage was lit up dramatically and Elliot couldn't help but smile. The far wall gleamed in the harsh light, and every single one of the score of guns mounted there seemed to sing in her eyes. But they weren't why she came down here. Neither was the small hybrid or the road bike. she was looking for the one thing that was the key to her survival.

Turning right and stepping up to the imposing set of shelves there, she crouched own and dug through the bottom shelf before finding it. Standing up again, with the worn leather bound journal in her hands, she left the garage and walked back to the atrium, where she found a seat and began to read.

...

The day passed slowly, and was spent in three ways. For Nathon, it was fearing the return of his comrade and doing everything Elliot told him to, without any help. For Elliot, it was handing out jobs and chores, and taking care of the more important ones herself, which included moving all the food from the first floor up to the stock room by the kitchen. And for the other woman, it was spent gathering information, and plotting in secret.

By the time it was dark, Elliot was satisfied with the day's work and told her guests to get some sleep, as they were definitely going to need it. she herself went back upstairs, looking forward to some contemplation time.

Nathon, who had been taking stock of the food in the stock room waited for her to leave before sighing and grabbing his camera from a nearby shelf and heading toward the room she had shown him before. He turned the corner to his room to find her standing there menacingly.

With a gasp he flinched and she rolled her eyes. She held out a hand and motioned for him to give her the camera. He gave it to her and she turned and went into her room. Only then did he notice she was wearing silk pajamas. Where did she get those? Stressed and confused, he shuffled into his own room to find another surprise. Two, actually. Sitting at the foot of his bed were the dogs. About to yell and run away, Nathon turned toward the door, but then realized the dogs weren't growling. Or snarling. Slowly he turned around and found the dogs both simply looking at him, with a sense of... curiosity.

Nathon calmed down enough to realize they probably wouldn't eat him in his sleep. So he took of his jacket and shoes and laid down on the bed. Soon after he got comfortable, both dogs simultaneously jumped up on the bed and Nathon yelped. But the dogs simply laid down at his feet and started to snore. Well, now he was pinned, but at least not dead.

Nathon eventually closed his eyes, fearing the dreams of sirens, monsters, and grey jumpsuits he was bound to have.


	6. Chapter Negative One

Chapter -1

Nathon opened his eyes to the familiar pitch-blackness he had fallen asleep to. Sleepily turning his head to his left, his blurry vision focused on the red digital numbers that glowed faintly in the dark. 6:50. He had a habit of waking up at that exact time every morning. Those precious semi-conscious ten minutes were the highlight of his day. They were the time he could imagine that the past year or so of his life, or more importantly the past month, was just a dream he was finally awakening from.

Sighing he turned on his side away from the numbers and drifted into a half sleep he could more appropriately day dream in. He had gotten to the point where he had not dropped out of college after only two months, when, with a loud bang, the door behind him opened and light flooded in to the small space he was curled up in. Squinting his eyes closed desperately, he tried to make himself believe it wasn't happening, that he was having the same nightmare over again, but her voice interrupted his state of desperate denial.

"Get up. It's seven o' clock." The same words she greeted him with every morning.

He craned his neck around himself to squint into the fluorescent lights that invaded his sanctuary. Silhouetted with shining dust particles was Sarah. Standing imposingly, both hands on either side of the door frame, sneering at him, stood the woman who had made his life hell in a single month. He honestly wondered what he had done to deserve _her. _

"Get. Up." she repeated in an far more menacing tone. She was wearing a lightly ruffled light grey blouse, a black jacket, and matching black knee length skirt, and black Mary Janes. Her dark brown hair was lightly curled and hung down to her shoulders. If it wasn't for the look of malice and hate that filled her deep brown eyes, and lit up the golden flecks in them, he might have thought she was heading off to the office. He assumed that's what everyone else in the building thought.

"I have a job for you today, Nathon." She waited for him to sit up before continuing. "Here are your instructions." She took the one step needed to reach his vicinity and handed Nathon a piece of legal paper. "Now," she continued, "I've got places to be." What those places were Nathon had no idea, and for that he was probably glad. She then turned and quickly strode out of the space and down the hall, her clicking heels reveling she was headed for the stairs.

He waited for the clicking to disappear before rubbing standing and pulling the string by his head. A bare bulb illuminated the shelves around him, along with the sink, the tiny cot, and all the cleaning supplies an apartment building would ever need.

A janitor's closet may seem like a horrible place to sleep, but Nathon found that faint chemical smell, so familiar to him by now, somewhat comforting.

Sighing, he reached over and swung the door closed. He brushed his neck-length almost-black hair back with his fingers. After splashing his face and brushing his teeth by the sink, he crouched down and opened a cabinet to his left and pulled out a mostly clean grey shirt, his dark jacket, and dark jeans. Changing quickly, he stuffed his old clothes back into the cabinet and kicked it closed before venturing out into the hallway. He turned left, the opposite direction Sarah had when she left, and entered the room directly next door, using a key he had grabbed, along with his watch and the directions given to him before, as he left.

He always felt a strong feeling of apprehension whenever he entered this apartment, as he did every morning. Stealing the same look at the life of his tormentor he did every day, he took in the sparsely furnished living room and kitchenette. Just a used TV, small uncomfortable looking couch, a coffee table, and only a fridge, microwave, oven, and dishwasher in the kitchen.

The only thing on the dark walls was a single photo of a cat, a gnarled, beaten looking cat with lots of scars and cuts in its ears. this picture was the thing that disturbed him the most of the entire room, mostly because the little girl holding the cat for dear life looked to be about twelve, but the expression on her face was so deep and intense that it looked like she had seen enough horrible things to last a lifetime. But the most disturbing part about it was the fact that the girl, who wore a pink skirt and white top, with her curled brown hair and gold-flecked eyes, bore a shocking resemblance to the Sarah.

Shuddering, he turned his gaze to the table to his right and grabbed the half sandwich that he knew had only a scrape of peanut butter on it, and quickly left the apartment, locking the door behind him. He quickly ate the sandwich trying not to remember what Sarah had put in his room the last time he had tried getting something extra to eat from her kitchen. Breakfast was the only thing she ever fed him, and she gave him twenty dollars a week, so he mostly survived on a pack of chips and a soda every day.

He finished his meager meal and walked back down the hallway and to the elevator, where he exited on the ground floor and walked out to the busy street. Blending in with the crowd of comforting strangers, he walked through the brisk April air until he had gone a few blocks West. finding a bench, he sat down and unfolded the directions Sarah had give him. He read them once. And then again. And then another time, just to make sure he had not finally succumbed to insanity.

Stoking out the entire city. For some stupid common cold symptoms? glancing down at the last note on the sheet, he knew that Sarah was either insane, or that the world was probably coming to an and. Or maybe both.

And remember. If you find anyone with the symptom of being bitten by another human being, you are to leave the scene, because that person has most likely been infected with the Zombie Virus. Contact me immediately.


	7. Chapter Five

Author's Note- Gosh I haven't used in FOREVER. I'm behind on here, and update much more on my livejournal- .com so check that out.

* * *

Chapter 5

Nathon was in a hurry. There were people around him, all facing away from him, and he was pushing through the crowd trying to get to his favorite bakery, because he needed to eat something before getting to work. The people were all moving so slowly, he had to wrench around them, pushing and shoving gently, keeping a string of "Excuse me"s and "Sorry about that"s as he fought his way dwn the sidewalk, but the people simply ignored his presence.

Finally, he made it to the end of the block and walked into the shop. There was a girl with long shaggy brunette hair at the counter, facing away from the door. Besides her, he was the only one inside what was usually a busy shop. He quickly shuffled up to the counter, craving a bagel. He reached the counter, looking down at the baked goods inside the display, and cleared his throat to get the girl's attention.

She did not turn around.

"Excuse me?" Nathon asked, supposing she hadn't heard him. He was going to be late to work if he didn't get out of there.

She still didn't turn around.

"Ma'am? I'd like a bagel, please."

The girl's head snapped up, her neck popped audibly, and she whipped around. Her face was marred with slashes and gouges, her skin was grey, and her blue lips were pulled back, her teeth bared menacingly, and her eyes were white, and it was obvious she was, if not dead, definitely not alive.

"Oh God," Nathon backed away from her quickly, and bumped into a large figure behind him. He spun around, face to face with a familiar business man carrying a briefcase in an injured arm, his sleeve blood stained and tattered. Behind him was a blonde girl in a diner waitress's uniform.

Both were baring their teeth at him, both were deathly grey, and both were zombies.

Nathon looked around frantically for another exit.

But simultaneously, all three zombies in the bakery with him raised their arms, and pointed at him, opened their mouths, leaned back their heads, and laughed.

Not a normal laugh, a horrible, ear splitting, deathly screech, that reverberated in Nathon's head making it impossible to think. From outside, more people, who were not really alive either, crowded around the windows, and laughed as well, their marred and grey faces filling up Nathon's mind. He collapsed to the ground, and realized what he was wearing.

The dingy grey jumpsuit, washcloths hanging from his pockets, and the white name-tag, with black letters, NATHAN. He'd been too nervous to say anything about the misspelling, but none of that mattered. The zombies were closing in, hundreds of them, from all around, and they were reaching down to finish him off...

And then they started licking his face. Nathon sat up frantically, and the licking stopped. The dog sat back and jumped off the bed, and nudged Nathon's hand. Nathon patted the dog on the head.

"I only wanted a bagel."


	8. Chapter Six

Chapter 6

Elliot awoke with a start, startled for a reason that flew her mind as soon as she tried to remember what it was. Rubbing her eyes, she sat up in bed and glanced at her alarm clock, to see that the familiar digital numbers were not dimly glowing in the darkness. With a faint glimmer of hope, she reached over to pull the cord on her lamp, but the light bulb did not react.

Sighing, she got out of bed and looked out the window. The sky was still dark, but there was lightness in the eastern horizon. The house was silent, and the telltale moans that had been so frightening almost twenty four hours ago had dispersed, and were now fewer and less disturbing.  
There was another long day ahead.  
…

The sounds of destruction coming from outside the door were what Nathon at first thought had roused him from his state of unconsciousness, but when he opened his eyes and held back a yelp, he knew that hadn't been it. The flecked brown eyes glaring down at him through perfectly brushed hair had probably reached into his soul and shaken it up a bit.

"Get up." Sarah dropped the camera on top of him, along with his brown jacket and shoes.

Nathon sat up, hurriedly put on his jacket, and swung his legs over to slip on his shoes. Sarah sneered at him before swinging open the door to his room. He grabbed the camera and followed, resisting the urge to cover his ears when he stepped outside into the insistent crashing noise coming from the beginning of the hallway. Following Sarah, he turned on the camera to find it charged and free of memory. He stopped beside Sarah and stared dumbfounded at the source of the sound.  
Elliot was on the staircase leading to the first floor, and was destroying it from the bottom up with a large mallet. Elliot was facing away from them, destroying the steps below. She was a good quarter of the way up the staircase, and what had once been elegant steps below her was now a pile of rubble.  
Sarah elbowed Nathon in the ribs and he quickly clicked the record button on the camera, aligning it so that what was left of the staircase could be seen beyond Elliot. Elliot turned around a minute later, finally registering that she was no longer alone.

"Oh." She said, breathing heavily. "You're up." She reached down and took a drink from the bottle of water a few steps above her feet, then set it back down carefully beside a worn leather bound book on the same step. "I was just, uh, getting rid of the staircase." She was still catching her breath. "If any zombies were to somehow make it inside, they wouldn't be able the get up to the second floor this way; I've got a rope ladder to hang from the landing so we can get down there and back."

Nathon saw a flash across Sarah's eyes as Elliot gave this news. "So, um, I've got this covered. The electricity is gone, too by the way. You two could grab some breakfast if you want, or… whatever." Her voice faded at the end, when neither Nathon nor Sarah did anything. "Right." And with that Elliot started on the staircase again.

After a couple of minutes, Sarah looked meaningfully at Nathon, who had been continuing to film, and pointed to where he was standing, which Nathon took to mean to stay there, and then moved her fingers across her lips and pointed to Elliot. She then walked off down the hallway. Nathon wasn't sure whether it was a good or bad thing to be left alone with Elliot, but just stood there, pointing the camera, saying nothing.

After a long while, Elliot turned around again. By now she had made it halfway up the staircase. She saw that Nathon was the only one there, took another drink, and took a seat on the few remaining steps.

"Where'd your friend go?" Elliot asked him after a few moments. Resisting the urge to scream that she was not his friend, was anything but his friend, Nathon shrugged with one shoulder, so as not to disturb the camera.

"Hm. Don't talk much, huh?" Nathon shrugged again. "Well, great." She sighed and picked up her book, flipping to a page filled with cramped, small handwriting. Nathon looked at it with curiosity. Elliot noticed his interest, and she closed the book hurriedly and tucked it in her belt.

"So, what is up with the camera, anyway?" Nathon was debating whether or not he could shrug again without getting hit, but a voice from behind him answered instead.

"It's for documentation. So that it can be proved this has happened. So that people don't forget." Nathon jumped at the sound of Sarah's voice. A strange look passed over Elliot's face after Sarah's words, but it quickly disappeared.

"Well. That's a good idea then." Elliot looked down, turned around, and started swinging at the staircase angrily once again. Sarah moved to stand next to Nathon, clicked the stop button on the camera, and then took it from his arms. She glanced at Elliot, and then turned to walk away. Nathon looked once more at her figure- swinging angrily, her face turned away- before following her down the hallway.


	9. Chapter Negative Four

Chapter -4

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Nathon's eyes squinted closed further. Not another Monday, anything but another Monday. Groaning with misery, he slammed a half-asleep arm over the alarm next to his too-small bed and slowly sat up in a semi-conscious daze. Blinking slowly, he stood up and glared at the closet of an apartment he lived in.

A bed, a dresser, a table, a chair, and a sagging couch. His furniture filled the tiny place, with only a kitchenette, bathroom, and single bedroom. Nathon sighed. It felt like he had fallen asleep only seconds ago. He hadn't woken up feeling well rested for at least a year. He stretched his sore shoulders and arms, and started looking for a clean set of clothes.

Time for work.

Elliot was just pulling on her navy coat and grabbing her cup of coffee on the way out. She stopped at the mirror by the door and quickly glanced to make sure her hair was pulled back smoothly, and she didn't have any crumbs on her grey blouse. She quickly filled up the food dishes by the door and grabbed her bag.

Smiling back at her dogs as she closed the front door, she walked over to her small hybrid and started the commute to the office. She was stuck at a light when her cellphone rang. She grabbed it quickly and didn't even glance at the number before putting on her ear piece and answering.

"What is it?" She listened intently to the urgently spoken message, and replied. "Okay, Timelyson. I'll be there soon." The light turned green, and Elliot slammed the accelerator, racing down the street toward the tall glass building ahead.

Sarah was wearing a similar navy blue jacket and a white blouse, with matching navy pants. She was walking down the street, and talking on the phone.

"Yes Parker, I'll be home in time for dinner, I know you've been planning it for a while ... Oh, can you pick up some cat food on the way home? I think Jimmy's almost out, okay great ... Love you too, bye." She smiled at the thought of her fiance and the poorly cooked dinner he was sure to prepare.

Nodding at he guard by the door, she entered the tall glass building she had been walking toward and went to the back of the lobby and entered the large elevator alone. The doors closed and she pushed the side of a panel in the wall, revealing a glowing red scanner. She pulled her ID out of her pocket, put it in front of the scanner, and the elevator lurched, dropping quickly several floors below. When the doors opened, a large room with several cubicles and offices was beyond them. Sarah quickly walked to the back, and stepped inside one of the three large offices in the back, the one on the right, with her name in black lettering across the door.

She had just dropped her bag on the desk when the phone on the table rang. She grabbed it and answered. "Yes? ... Be right there." She hung up and stepped back outside into the large room, and fast-walked to the back hallway, where another elevator was. She turned the corner in time to see a red-headed figure entering the elevator. "Hold it, please-" The figure turned around, a hand out to stop the door from closing. "Greenwall, ma'am."

Elliot rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Jarmont, how long have we been working together? Almost two years? Quit it with the ma'am crap. Timelyson call you down too?" The elevators doors closed as Sarah got inside the elevator.

"Yes. What's all this about, then?"

"I believe it's something to do with the one we picked up in Vancouver last week."

Sarah's eyes narrowed. She had been against the entire plan of bringing that one back. Zombies were to be killed on the spot, no questions asked. If the CIA wanted to do experiments, they could do it on the bodies after they had been shot several times in the head. The elevator door opened again, and the two stepped out into a dimly lit hallway. A blond woman with a sharp face in a lab coat and and a dark haired woman in a black suit were standing there, waiting for them.

Both Elliot and Sarah stood up straighter at the sight of the dark haired woman.

"Good morning, Chief Fritz." Elliot said. "I didn't know you were coming in today."

"Oh, just thought I'd come in and check up on what your section was doing, Greenwall. Heard about your new, uh, specimen. Seemed like something worth taking a look at."

"Definitely, ma'am. I wasn't completely convinced with the idea of a, um, 'live' one being brought back for study, but Timelyson here insisted they needed it. Apparently they've exhausted all the use they can get out of the remains."

The blond woman nodded. "My research department has found that finding the key to fully understanding the virus is going to require an animated subject. And now that we have one, our experiments can take place. With this animated specimen, we could map the virus. Create a vaccine. Possibly even come up with a cure. A cure for before reanimation, of course. The virus kills the host, then reanimates the body. Curing a reanimated corpse would leave you with just a corpse, as far as we know anyway. Of course, that might be less... violent than the current method." Krissko Timelyson glanced at Sarah as she said this, who glared back venomously.

Sarah, who took great pleasure in destroying the awful things, had always believed that Krissko had developed a sick and twisted sympathy for the terrible creatures she studied. As head of the zombie annihilation division, Sarah didn't have much patience for the research division. Kill first, experiment later. Otherwise it leaves room for error. Zombies, the stupid, ugly creatures they were, had a terrible knack of spreading the virus, no matter how many barricades and walls you kept them hidden behind.

"But," continued Krissko, "This subject could answer all these questions and more. We have him constrained in our safe room. If you'll follow me, it's about time for his blood sample. We've been taking regular samples to diagnose his rate of decay."

They walked to the end of the corridor and Timelyson typed a long string of characters together and the wall slid open seamlessly to reveal a another door. Timelyson waved at a camera in the far corner, and the door opened. This door led to a viewing room, where beyond a small bulletproof glass window a straining figure in grey shorts was tied to a table. Timelyson walked over to the door and gave a retina scan. It clicked open and she held it for the party to walk through.

Sarah approached the table behind everyone else. Everyone stood a good four feet away form the table. Sarah was somewhat shocked at the figure on the table. It was male, with dark blond hair. Skinny, and and his skin was grey and chalky. He looked as if he had been no older than twelve. He was straining against the rope, leather, and iron constraints that wrapped around both arms, his neck, head, chest, waist, knees, and feet. He was snarling and wailing, his eyes unable to focus on the people staring down in contempt and horror at him.

Sarah stared at him for a full minute, feeling strange. She had never seen one tied up like this before. Her hand twitched angrily. She wanted so badly just to reach in her jacket, pull out her gun, and kill it right there, to end her own suffering in looking at it squirm. She took a deep breath, and tried to ignore her impulses. Timelyson was talking.

"He is approximately thirteen years of age at time of death. He was found alone in a garden shack during the second strike. Both parents caught the zombie virus, most likely from him." Timelyson took a needle from her coat. He reanimated approximately 100 hours ago. Decay is slower after the virus has set in. Blood has begun coagulating, and there are no signs yet of rigor mortis. She stepped up to the zombie and pushed the needle into his arm. The zombie either didn't notice, or the reaction was unintelligible from his already manic state. She pulled the plunger back, and a brown substance thickly oozed into the needle. She put the sample back into her pocket.

"We plan on a surgery tonight, which he has a 10 percent chance of surviving. We have already found that the only way to kill a reanimated corpse is to destroy its brain. This surgery's goal is to take a portion of the living brain in order to do some tests. We want to find out how the virus invades the brain."

Elliot nodded in approval. "Sounds good. Looks like you guys are making good use of this subject. Is that all then, Timelyson?"

"I believe so. I need to get this sample to the lab, and I'm sure you all have important things to be getting done."

Aimee Fritz looked up from the zombie for the first time since entering the room. "Uh, Timelyson. I was wondering if I could ask you some more detailed questions later, in your office, perhaps?"

"Of course, chief, just let me turn in this sample." Krissko opened the door and led the group back out to the corridor, leading them away from the nightmarish sounds coming from the creature.

Krissko and Aimee turned down a different hallway as Sarah and Elliot stepped onto the elevator. "You never really get used to the sounds those things can make." Elliot said as soon as the door closed. "It's pretty disconcerting knowing one of those things is writhing down there, right below us."

"That's not the part that bothers me." Sarah replied. "It's just the fact that it's alive, that no one is trying to actively kill it. It should be dead."

"Ha. You really are the perfect person for the job, eh Sarah?" The elevator door opened. "Well, don't let it bother you too much. There won't be any traces of the virus in a 500 mile radius by tonight, if the thing dies during surgery." With that, Elliot walked down the hallway, leaving Sarah to her own violent thoughts of coagulated blood and cold grey skin.


	10. Chapter Seven

Chapter 7

Blue pre-dawn light flooded the second floor kitchen. Elliot opened the cupboard doors one by one and took stock of what they had. A few dozen cans, some bread about to go stale, a few boxes of granola bars, and enough water to last the three of them a month. They had eaten the perishables in the first week, and now, they were quickly depleting their long term supply. Plus, they were almost out of dog food. Sighing, Elliot made for her room, to prepare for the day ahead.

...

Nathon awoke the same way he had for the past couple of weeks- in a fair amount of terror. Most of the time it was simply the lingerings of a nightmare he hadn't quite forgotten yet, and he would quickly get over it. Today was slightly different. Today the fear was caused by a real force, and an image he knew would stick with him for the rest of the day. He opened his eyes to see Sarah towering over him in a faded grey suit jacket and red blouse. He didn't even have time to wonder where the hell she kept getting all these new outfits before she dropped the camera on his chest, knocking the breath out of him and scattering his not-quite-conscious thoughts. She had only ever done this on the morning Elliot had destroyed the stair case, so he knew something was going on.

She issued her now familiar "Get up." before striding out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Nathon sat up, wondering where the dogs had gone. They had spent every night in his room, but now they were no where to be seen. He grabbed his tattered brown jacket off of the edge of the bed and put it on over the greyish t-shirt he had been wearing for the past two weeks. He had fallen asleep in his jeans, so with a vague patting down of his hair, he grabbed the camera and left the room.

The house was as quiet. The moans that had so prominently been heard for the first two days of the outbreak had now dispersed, and although Nathon had no expectation of ever getting used to them, they were occurring more and more rarely. The hall was empty, but there was the occasional rustle of paper a few rooms down, in the dining room. Nathon walked quietly down the hall and peered into the room. He saw not Sarah's intimidating figure, but a red headed figure facing away from him, sitting at the table. Elliot was hunched over a note book, writing furiously, occasionally glancing at a leather bound journal lying open on the table. She was already dressed in dark jeans and a long-sleeved green shirt. Nathon made a movement to walk into the room, and Elliot heard him. She inconspicuously shut the journal and tucked it into her belt, before turning in her seat to Nathon.

"Oh, it's you." She brushed her hair out of her face. "Uhm." She glanced at the pad of paper she had been writing on. It's about time I went out for supplies. Our food won't last forever, and I think we'll be here for a while. The first wave of the reanimated seems to have passed, so now is an ideal time to go. There's a grocery store right down the street, and I'm just deciding what we need." She glanced at Nathon's not so cleanly clothes. "I could probably pick up a few shirts or something for you."

Elliot's attention suddenly focused at a point behind Nathon's right shoulder. "Good morning. I was just telling Nathon that I'm going to be going out for supplies today."

Nathon twitched as Sarah spoke from right behind him. "That sounds... exciting."

Elliot frowned. "I'm really hoping it won't be."

"Are you going to need any help? I'm sure Nathon and I could probably be of assistance in some way." Nathon's eyebrows involuntarily raised at this unexpected offer. Elliot had been busy doing something almost everyday for the past two weeks; moving food into safe storage, patrolling downstairs, which she reached with a knotted rope that she tied to the remaining banister. She had cleared the rubble of the staircase, and barricaded each window and door securely. Sarah watched all of this happen from the balcony looking down on the atrium, asking occasional questions while Nathon filmed the entire thing. She blatantly refused to offer any help whatsoever, completely ignoring Elliot's light implications that the sooner the work got done, the sooner they were even slightly safer.

Elliot also seemed a bit thrown off. "Well, sure, if you two are willing to risk it." Her face became more serious. "There's nothing I can do if one of you gets infected, but end it early if you'd like. I'm not jeopardizing my safety or anyone else's if I can help it. I'm not going to stop you from coming, because having you along means we can get more supplies. So, the choice is yours. I've got bikes, and guns, if you know how to use them. If not, you're better off with a crow bar." She stood up, grabbing her note pad. I'm going downstairs in ten minutes. You're going to want tighter, lighter clothing, if you have it. I'm just going to grab some weapons. Either of you want a gun?"

"I can use one." Sarah said. This did not surprise Nathon. Elliot turned to him, and he just shook his head.

"Right. Ten minutes. And, the camera is not a good idea." Elliot walked out of the room and to the third floor staircase. When Nathon turned around, Sarah had also disappeared.

Confused and now thoroughly frightened, he sagged against the door frame. "Oh, God."

...

When Elliot reached the gaping hole where the staircase used to be, she found Sarah and Nathon waiting for her. She had folded up the list and stuck it in her pocket, and carefully tucked the journal into a pillowcase on her bad. She had a small backpack strapped on, holding ammo and some emergency supplies. She had two small, silenced pistols. One was tucked into her belt, and the other she handed to Sarah with a hint of apprehension. Sarah simply took the gun and slid into her belt as well. She had changed out of her normal attire into a pair of dark pants and a purple tank top. Nathon stood awkwardly to the side, without his Elliot handed him a sleek metal crowbar, and reached down to drop the coiled rope to the ground. She gracefully slid down. Sarah looked at Nathon, which he took as his cue to descend next. He slowly climbed down, trying with difficulty not to drop his crowbar. When he finally dropped to the floor, Sarah leaped down, barely using the rope to slow her fall. She landed elegantly, then looked to Elliot for further direction.

Turning away from the front door, Elliot opened the door that lead to the garage. She flicked the lights on, revealing an enormous garage, housing a hybrid and five bicycles of varying styles. Each bike had a large basket on the back, and Elliot pulled off her backpack and reached inside to pull out two other folded up backpacks that she handed to Sarah and Nathon. Elliot grabbed a dark purple road bike. "Grab a bike, and we'll get on our way. Nathon, you stay between us, you can't really swing a crow bar and ride at the same time. Sarah, do you think you can shoot and pedal at the same time?"

"Without a doubt."

"Good." Elliot grabbed the remote from her backpack and opened the garage door, which cranked quietly up. The suburban lawns outside were deserted in the early morning light. The sun had not fully risen, and the eastern sky they were facing was a violent red. Elliot held up a hand, motioning for the two behind her to not move. She could hear faint shuffling.

She dismounted her bike, and with the assurance of someone who knows how to handle a gun, she looked outside the garage door and to the right, down the street. Sure enough, a zombie was coming their way from a few houses down. It was male, and middle aged, stiffly limping on crushed right foot. She took aim and without hesitation, shot it right between the eyes. It collapsed with a light thud. Elliot surveyed for any more attackers, but none were in sight. She went back to her back, keeping her gun in hand. "Let's go."

Elliot took off down the street, the opposite direction from where the single zombie had come. She steered the bike with her left hand, keeping her right arm poised to pull the rigger. She rode quickly, and could hear Nathon struggling to keep up behind her. The houses were all slightly out of their normally close to perfect order. Windows were broken, and doors were agape. Their were a few cars abandoned in the street, which Elliot avoided. The five blocks to the store took all of two minutes to ride, but it passed painstakingly slowly. At least six or seven reanimated emerged from the houses when they heard the trio pass by. Elliot would release her grip on the bike in order to turn around and take aim, shoot, then grab hold again quickly in order not to fall.

Finally, they reached the end of the neighborhood and the beginning of a street made up of small restaurants, a few department stores, and most importantly the large grocery store. Elliot turned into the parking lot, which was mostly empty. She pulled up and braked next to the main entry. Nathon, who appeared paler than usual, rode up behind her, almost running into her bike. Sarah came to a halt behind him. Elliot stepped in front of the automatic doors, and found with surprise they opened easily. She stepped inside cautiously. If the doors still worked, anything could have gotten in. Sarah walked close behind, seemingly sensing the same thing. Nathon stayed a few feet behind,unaware of the probable danger stalking in the aisles before them. Elliot waited for the automatic doors behind her to close before giving a short shout.

Almost immediately, three reanimated appeared from separate aisles. Elliot aimed and shot the first quickly, but as she pivoted to take aim again, Sarah shot for the second time. Elliot glanced at Sarah, somewhat impressed. She listened carefully for any other approaching hazards, but heard none. She lowered her weapon.

"Right. I'm going after a few cans and some other miscellaneous supplies. Nathon, go find some water and feel free to pick up any clothing you want. Sarah, pick up any perishables that are still good and you think will last the next week. Elliot went to the nearest register and grabbed a bunch of paper bags, handing some to each. Once you run out of space in your backpack, fill these up. Anything that won't fit in the baskets will go on the handle bars. Pick up anything that might be of use, but keep it down to five bags and your back pack. Get everything you can, but remember we can always come back later." Elliot put her gun in her belt and walked toward the canned goods aisle.

...

Nathon's hand still refused to quit shaking. His crowbar was kept under his arm, which was weighed down with several bags of bottled water. He had picked up a few packs of underwear, socks, and plain white t-shirts- all that he had found in the limited clothes aisle. The zombies had come out of nowhere, and Elliot and Sarah had both been immediately aware of their presence upon entering the store. Nathon had had no idea. Those two were prepared for everything, but Nathon was anything but ready. He knew the only reason he was still alive was Sarah, as much as he hated to admit it. Now, he was beginning to doubt that even she would be able to keep him alive for much longer. Not only did Elliot and Sarah both seem somehow trained for an event like this, but they had something Nathon had never really been able to achieve- confidence and a will to live.

He sighed, then almost screamed when realized he was a few inches away from stepping on one of the bodies Sarah had shot down. He inched carefully around it, and looked up to see Sarah glaring at him. He glanced down at the body on the floor, then turned around to continue picking up supplies.

...

Sarah was sorting through a stack of oranges that still looked okay to eat when she heard a small yelp. Her head jerked up to see Nathon cowering against a shelf of bread, away from the corpse on the floor. Sarah looked at him disapprovingly. He carefully escaped.

Sarah shook her head and turned back to her oranges. She had filled a couple of bags with bread and unspoiled vegetables. She walked around the produce section, the smell of rotting fruits drifting around. Sarah was listening intently for the sound of automatic doors. The slight sound of a tinkling bell was prominent in the silence.

Sarah tensed. She slowly turned her head to her left, toward the freezer section, then slowly walked in that direction. She turned down an aisle of fruit pops and ice cream sandwiches. At the end, a door had been left open, and a few tubs of vanilla ice cream had fallen on the floor, and was lying in a melted heap. Her eyes widened at the four legged creature lapping up the spilled mess. She quietly walked over to the grey fluff-ball of a cat, with mangled ears and a crooked tail.

When she was a few feet away, the cat looked up sharply, the bell on its collar quietly ringing. Sarah paused, then kneeled down. The cat tensed, ready to run, or pounce. Sarah just sat there, staring at the cat with a strange look in her eyes. She was trying hard to remember something, but it wouldn't come back. She made to stand up, but the cat stepped over the melted ice cream toward her. Sarah reached down and scratched the cat between the ears, and heard it purr. She picked it up, and looked at it carefully. She was just deciding whether or not it would tolerate being carried around in one of her grocery bags, when she heard hoarse shouting from the front of the store. She held the cat close and ran to the cash registers.

...

Elliot was scrounging through the medical supplies, grabbing band-aids, ice packs, and pain killers for the head aches that were all too imminent. She had filled two bags with canned food, and one bag of medical supplies. She could see the pharmacy up at the front of the store, and headed over. She pulled the list out of her pocket, glancing at the twelve different prescription medications she had written down. She came up to the counter, which was blocked with wire caging.

She pulled a small bobby pin from her hair, reached through the cage, and picked the lock securing it to the counter without much difficulty. She pushed the wire up, and slid over the counter. She landed on a sleeping figure, who did not remain asleep for much longer. Elliot gave out a sound of surprise as the man quickly jumped up, his eyes were wild, but not vacant like that of the people she had been shooting at for the majority of the morning. The man backed against the opposite wall of Elliot, his straggly brown hair covered much of his face.

Elliot pulled her gun from her belt, pointing it at him.

"Sir! Have you been bitten?"

"What the hell are you doing in my store?"

Elliot glanced at the name tag on the guy's stained shirt. It read "Richie"

"Richie, that's your name right? I'm Elliot. I live a few blocks down, and we just came here for some supplies. Have you been bitten?"

"No. You are not stealing from my store. Nobody is stealing from my store. They all tried to, but I stopped them." He was yelling now. The man reached into his pocket, pulling out a weapon of his own.

Elliot could tell the man was not in his right mind. She glanced around and could see that several pills were lying on the floor, along with discarded wrappings from snack cakes and bags of chips, and large bottles of soda. The man was ranting again, his gun now pointed at Elliot.

"They tried to steal, they tried. I stopped them. They tried to get rid of me, they almost did. But I stopped them."

He starting mumbling, and scratched a bandage over his right hand, the hand holding the gun. It was blood stained, and obviously fresh. Elliot scrutinized the man further, and saw that his eyes were blood shot, his nose was running, and his skin was pale. Perhaps they were symptoms of living alone inside a grocery store for two weeks, but it wasn't worth the risk. Elliot tensed her finger on the trigger, but the shot fired from behind her caused her to pull sooner than she had intended. The man dropped dead on the floor. Elliot whirled around to see Sarah tucking her gun into her belt.

"I had that covered, you know."

Nathon came running from the back of the store.

"What the hell was all that?"

"Just a crazy probably infected civilian. Taken care of. Are we ready to go now?"

Elliot nodded, than shook her head. "Just a minute." She grabbed all the medication she needed, leaning over Richie's body. When she had what she'd came for, she went over the counter and joined the other two. "Okay. Let's get home."

...

Nathon was tying down his cargo to the rack on his bike with the bungee cords Elliot had brought along. His new clothes were in his backpack, and he had some of the medical supplies Elliot had picked up in plastic bags hanging on the handle bars. The water was loaded up on the rack, stacked at least twice as tall as the actual basket. He had no idea how he was going to keep up with Elliot and Sarah on the ride back. Elliot was in front of him, securing the several dozen cans of food and boxes of medication to her road bike, and glancing behind him, he could see Sarah packing up her produce, with a single paper bag on the handle bars. He thought he saw it move, but blinked and noticed Sarah glaring at him with more fury than he thought possible, so he forgot all about it.

He turned back to Elliot, who was now staring across the parking lot.

"Oh crap." She whispered.

Sarah turned in the same direction and grimaced. Nathon turned, already afraid of what he would see. A large group of twenty or so zombies were coming their way, and quickly. Nathon groaned.

"Do you think we can bike faster than them?" Sarah asked.

"Not with all this cargo." The zombies were now only fifteen yards away. Nathon shrank back against the building, grabbing his crowbar tightly.

"Alrighty then." Elliot said, and aimed her gun.

Sarah and Elliot had most of the horde on the ground by the time they were in fighting distance, but several still lunged at them when they reached the store front. Elliot and Sarah were taking them out with forceful blows to the head with the butts of their pistols.

Nathon swung with force, but it glanced off of the female zombie's head. It dropped her to the ground, but she still grabbed his ankle. Nathon yelled and kicked, but she didn't let go. He felt teeth begin to dig into his flesh before a bullet went through the zombie's skull. He flailed and got his leg free, but not before both Sarah and Elliot saw the blood drip onto his sock. They stared at him, Elliot with sympathy, Sarah with anger. Elliot kept her gun in her hand.

"Oh shit, no. Please, please don't shoot me, it barely bit me, I can still walk, I'm fine, please don't shoot me." Nathon begged, but all his only hopes for survival did was back away to their bikes and ride off.

"Oh shit."

Nathon jumped on his bike and pedaled for his life after them, the searing in his leg forgotten.

"Please!" He screamed after them. "Don't leave me out here to die!" He saw Sarah look back over her shoulder at him, and the anger in her eyes almost made him slow down.

He continued to ride after them, but their loads were lighter and they'd had a head start. He saw them pull into Elliot's driveway, and the garage door was closed by the time he rode up. He banged hopelessly on the door, but simply heard Elliot yell back at him.

"Would you like for me to wait until you enter the coma phase before I shoot you? That'll be in about twelve hours."

"I feel fine!" He called back. He tried lifting the door, but it was locked down. He ran around the house, and came to the wall he had climbed over two weeks ago.

He climbed up it, jumped over, and ran to the door, this time without any dogs trying to rip him to pieces. He banged on the door and even rung the doorbell, but there was no reply. It was past noon, and ther wasn't a cloud in the sky, but the sun brought no warmth to the autumn chill.

Nathon turned around and fell against the door, sliding to the ground. He wrapped his jacket around him, and looked past the gate. There were no zombies in sight, but he had a feeling they would get there soon. He stood up and walked to a point in the yard where he could see the second floor windows. Sarah was looking down on him. He looked up at her, confused. He was the one that was going to die, not her. She just glared at him before closing the curtains and leaving him alone.


	11. Chapter Eight

Chapter 8

Elliot was sitting in the dining room with her hands over her ears, waiting for Nathon's recent string of pleas to turn into curses, then silence. She glanced at the clock in the corner of the room before forgetting the power had been out for days and releasing the grip on the left side of her head to glance at the time.

"Please let me in already! You assholes! What is wrong with you?"

It was almost midnight. Sarah had left the room a few hours ago in a silent fury. Elliot had remained to see the thing through to the end. Elliot was almost certain Nathon had attracted a fair amount of reanimated by now, but the gate would hold against a very large number. Elliot was tempted to count out the number anyway, but a flashlight would just attract more. Nathon had quieted again, and Elliot allowed herself to enter the world of sound.

Elliot pulled her leather journal from her belt. She flipped the pages filled with her own messy handwriting until she reached a page titled "Infection".

-Caught From  
Bites  
Blood caught in eyes or mouth  
Any bodily fluid consumed

-Symptoms  
Fever  
Nausea  
Congestion  
Fatigue  
Pallid complexion  
Coma

-Time Frame  
1hr from initial exposure  
congestion and fatigue  
5hrs from initial exposure  
nausea and fever  
10hrs from initial exposure  
skin grows pale and subject becomes incoherent  
12hrs from initial exposure  
subject enters coma  
15hrs from initial exposure  
subject expires  
15hrs 10min from initial exposure  
subject reanimates

Something was wrong. Elliot and Sarah had gotten back before 2 o' clock. If it was midnight, why wasn't Nathon showing any symptoms? Elliot went over to the window, opened it, leaned out, and looked down. The moon was full, and she could barely see Nathon. He was huddled against the house, and it looked as if he was sobbing, though Elliot couldn't hear him very well.

"Hey, um, Nathon?" He remained huddled.

"Please don't shoot me yet." His reply was muffled.

"I won't. Uh, are you suffering from any fever, nausea, congestion, fatigue, or paleness?"

"Well, let's see. I've been screaming my head off for hours, so I'm probably a bit feverish. I'm about to die, so I kind of want to puke. I'm on the verge of tears, so my nose is starting to run. I'm afraid to fall asleep, as much as I would like to, because you'll probably shoot me. And, I don't get out much to begin with, so yeah, I'm pale."

"Well, at least you're coherent."

Nathon remained huddled.

"Are you cold?"

"Yes. Does that rule out the fever?"

"Not really. It's probably under forty degrees out here. Do you want a blanket?"

"Won't I be entering a coma soon anyway?"

"Well, yeah. But you have at least another two hours."

"Yes. I would like a blanket."

Elliot went into the library across the hall and grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch. When she got back to the window, Nathon was pacing in a circle.

"Okay, I'm throwing it down." Elliot balled it up so it wouldn't be blown over the wall, then sent it down. It landed at Nathon's feet. He bent down and picked it up, then wrapped it over his shoulders. He continued walking in circles.

"Well. Oh hey, there aren't any reanimated down there, are there? I mean, can you hear them over the wall or anything?"

"Nope."

"Oh, well, good."

Nathon stopped his pacing. "You know what?"

"I doubt it."

"I'm dying in less than two hours, and... that's it."

Elliot was tempted to say that she had actually known that, but stopped herself.

Nathon continued. "I have no family, no home, nothing. I'm just one of the hundreds, thousands, maybe even a million people who have died in the past two weeks. I'm even less than that. I'm the body they won't even be able to identify."

"Well, due to the decomposition and head shots, I'm sure lots of bodies won't be identified."

"Gee, thanks."

"Besides, how do you know they'll even be identifying bodies? I see no helicopters, no rescue teams. We could be all that's left. There was not a single, real living soul out there today, besides that crazy guy, and he doesn't count. He probably gave in. Most people probably have. This is something a lot of people just can't handle. Nuclear war, sure. Surges of soldiers coming and destroying their way of life, why not? But waking up and finding your neighbor clawing at your window, craving your flesh? That's just... way too much to take in."

"Then, how can you handle it?"

"That is a very good question. I honestly have no idea."

"Why do you have a house surrounded by ten foot walls, a room full of guns? And how do you know all this stuff? We've been around since this whole thing began. You haven't timed how a person reacts to a bite, you haven't recorded their symptoms. How do you know what we need to survive? Where did the idea to tear down that staircase come from?"

"All very good questions, and all with the same answer. I have no idea how I know this, but I do." Elliot glanced at her journal lying on the table.

Nathon sighed, and returned to his huddled position by the building. There was an awkward silence for a few minutes, then Nathon's head jerked up.

"Uhhh..." he began.

"What?"

"You know how earlier I said there weren't any zombies down here? Well now there are. And it sounds like a lot of them."

"Great. Well, you'll be better off not aggravating them. You should head to the back of the house."

The moans were drifting up to Elliot's level. It sounded as if a couple dozen had suddenly decided to show up. She couldn't help but wonder what had taken them so long to get here. She felt a deep sympathy for whatever it had been that had distracted them. Nathon hopped up and quickly walked around the corner of the house, looking behind his shoulder worriedly at the section of the wall where the reanimated could be heard. Elliot left the window and walked across the hall into the library. She looked out the window and saw Nathon come around the corner of the house. He looked up and saw her leaning out the window. After a brief pause he began talking.

"How much time do I have left?"

Elliot glanced at her wrist. "Hour and a half."

"So, I just collapse and that's it?"

"I believe so."

"Well. Are you going to just shoot me from up there, or what?"

Elliot pondered. "I guess I could go down there. You'll be in the coma for three hours, so it's not like you'll be trying to eat me by the time I get to the backyard."

"Can you, like, check my vitals or something? I don't want to accidentally fall asleep too early or anything."

"Uhm. Sure. You know, you're probably handling this pretty well."

"Like I said, it's not like I'm leaving anything behind. I'm probably more afraid of what's over that wall than what's happening in the next hour and a half."

"Good point of view, I guess."

They shared another awkward silence. Elliot heard her dogs come into the room. She leaned out of the window frame to greet the two of them, and to drag a chair over to the window. The dogs sat at her side, and one looked out the window at Nathon and whimpered quietly. Elliot stared at the dog for a moment then out at Nathon.

"That's weird." She said.

"What?" The dogs aren't going crazy.

"Well they didn't like me when I first, er, got here. But they've been sleeping in my room."

"No, I mean, dogs can sense the virus. They aren't even barking at you." The dog put its paws on the windowsill and leaned out, looking out at Nathon worriedly. "Something weird is going on." Nathon just stood in the middle of the yard, shivering slightly.

"Can- can I come in?" Elliot was debating how to respond when her thoughts were interrupted by the reply from the next window.

"No."

She leaned out further to see Sarah leaning out from the next room.

"I don't see how it's your decision." Elliot said.

Sarah grimaced. "You said you wouldn't be jeopardizing anybody's safety. There's no magical immunity to the virus, your dogs are just used to the smell by now. He's staying out there."

Elliot just stared at her then down at Nathon, who was looking up at Sarah with confusion and fear. It'd become pretty obvious the two weren't the best of friends, but even Elliot, who barely knew Nathon, felt at least a little bad about leaving him out to die in the cold. When Elliot looked back to Sarah's window, she was gone.

"It's my house." Elliot said to Nathon. "You can stay on the first floor if you want."

Nathon just shook his head and retreated to huddling against the house. Elliot thought about trying to salvage a conversation, but decided he'd probably like to be alone. She left the window, staring at her dogs for another few seconds before going to the kitchen to get something to eat.

...

Nathon sat against the building, the blanket pulled over his head in order to further muffle the sounds of the dead on the other side of the wall. He was trying hard not to think about what little time he had left, and tried to just remain calm. He glanced at his ankle. The bite was shallow, and the bleeding had stopped some while ago, although his sock was stained with his own blood. He continued focusing on not thinking about anything painful, and he was finding trouble thinking of something that fit into that category. He satisfied himself with lying down and staring at the sky. After a while he became drowsy and decided to get up and move around. He had lost track of time as soon as the sun had gone down. It had to have been at least an hour since Elliot had left the window.

"Elliot?" He called up to the dimly lit window. There was no reply. He assumed she had left to take a nap or eat something. As he processed this, his stomach growled. He realized he hadn't eaten anything since the small granola bar he'd inhaled before the trip to the grocery store. He groaned and sat down again. Nathon still had no idea what time it was. He assumed time was impossible to keep track of when you were dying. He tried to remember the symptoms Elliot had asked him about. Fever, nausea, congestion, all the stuff Sarah had written down those weeks ago. He felt his head, but realized that was pointless considering how cold they were anyway. He could breathe through his nose just fine. He was tired, but he'd been up almost twenty hours by now. The slight urge to vomit had been with him so long now that he had become used to it. He sighed and leaned his head back against the house.

He was just standing up again when Elliot called his name from above. He stepped away from the wall and looked up at the window.

"Nathon? You aren't in a coma?"

"No... was that supposed to happen already?"

"It's almost five o' clock." Elliot was getting frantic.

"What?" Nathon had been right about time playing tricks on him. "You're saying I can't even become a zombie right?"

Elliot just stared at him for a while. "Something is going on. You don't have any incredibly wacky health condition or anything?"

Nathon shook his head.

"Right..." Elliot scratched her head. Nathon looked to the east and saw the sky barely beginning to lighten.

"So, now what?" He asked.

"I have no idea."

They were silent for a while, then Nathon's stomach growled again.

"Hey, um, could I have a granola bar or something? I haven't eaten anything in almost twenty four hours."

Elliot left the window and returned a few seconds later with a box of chocolate chip granola bars, and dropped the whole thing down to Nathon. He opened the package and chewed on one thoughtfully. Elliot continued to stare.

"What if there is a miracle immunity?" She said it barely loud enough for Nathon to hear. His head snapped up.

"What, I'm the one person in the world who's immune? What are the chances of that?"

Elliot just softly shook her head, and said the phrase she'd been using way too much for her own liking.

"I have no idea."

Nathon finished his granola bar and then another one, then looked up to Sarah. "If I fall asleep, will you promise not to shoot me?"

Elliot thought a moment. "Probably... how about I wake you up in an hour to make sure you're not in a coma?"

"Sure." Nathon was already positioning his blanket into a pillow and getting as comfortable as he could. He waited for the sound of the window being shut before closing his eyes, and slowly drifting off to sleep.

...

Elliot walked into the kitchen and filled the dogs' bowls with food she had picked up at the store. She grabbed herself a piece of bread that hadn't yet gone stale and put some peanut butter on it. She ate her sandwich quietly, and could hear the footsteps behind her as Sarah walked into the room. Elliot turned around to see Sarah with a grey cat slung around her shoulders. The expression on her face was not one Elliot had seen before. There was her normal anger, but there was something else beyond that.

"Why the hell isn't Nathon shot?"

"Where the hell did you get that cat?"

The two glared at each other for a moment before Elliot answered first.

"He hasn't shown any symptoms. He's sleeping now, but not in a coma. I'm waking him up in an hour. If he's still fine then, I don't think he should have to stay out there past noon."

"His name is Jimmy." Sarah replied. Then walked out of the room.

...

"Naathon!"

Nathon's eyes opened and he felt immediately relieved to know who he was and to not be craving anybody's brains. He sat up and looked to the window. Both Sarah and Elliot were leaning out of adjacent windows. As far as he could tell, they were both in the library. The sky was lighter, and he could see much better. He could also hear the zombies that seemed to have greatly raised in numbers since he had fallen asleep.

"Uhm. Hi."

"Okay, good. You're not a zombie. Well, as you might have noticed, we do still have a zombie problem. And it's mostly your fault, really. All that cursing and everything last night. Didn't do a great job of keeping us inconspicuous."

"They almost trampled all the water you were graceful enough to drop outside the garage yesterday." Sarah interjected. She still seemed pissed off, but there was a strange tone of curiosity and confusion in her voice.

"Uhm. Sorry." Why the hell was he apologizing? "I mean, uhm. So, what are we going to do about the zombies?"

"What do you think?" Elliot said. She and Sarah both pulled guns outside of their window frames. Sarah grinned maniacally.

"Well, I'll just sit here and be useless some more then." Nathon hadn't meant to say it loud enough to be heard, but Sarah replied.

"If you're somehow not infected, you've still got responsibilities. She dropped her gun and it landed a few feet from Nathon. He resisted the urge to step away from it. Sarah sneered down at him. Nathon took a deep breath and picked it up. He looked to Elliot for direction. She gave him a brief instruction on how to fire, and pointed out a dog house he could stand on top of to shoot from. Nathon walked over to it and climbed on top, and saw the several dozen zombies standing outside the wall.

"Here's a tip!" Elliot called out from her window. "Don't look at their faces, just fire."

Nathon took one last glance at his bloodied sock before taking aim. His eye first landed on an old man. Too late, Nathon was already imagining what grandchildren he had had, and if he had lived nearby. Nathon found a new target, and fired before taking in its appearance. It crumpled in a heap. By now, Elliot and Sarah, with an extra gun Elliot had produced from her belt, had each taken out at least four.

The guns were silenced, but still more zombies kept appearing. The trio took half at least half an hour to take them all out, leaving a large pile of bodies outside the wall.

When they were all gone, Nathon turned around and looked at the two women in the house, who were both looking back at him. Sarah turned to Elliot.

"How long has it been since he was bit?" She asked. Elliot glanced at her watch.

"Almost eighteen hours. He should be completely reanimated by now. I don't think he even has any symptoms." Sarah nodded and said nothing. Elliot continued. "Why don't you come inside, Nathon?"


	12. Chapter Nine

Chapter 9

Sarah glared down the shambling gray figures advancing from all directions. Tensing both of her trigger fingers on the twin pistols she had in both hands, she leaned back slightly to take a breath, and she was surprised to find she was back to back with someone else. She whipped her head around to see a tall blond figure. Sarah recognized him before he even turned his head to grin at her.

"Parker?"

Sarah's shock only lasted until a zombie a mere ten feet away gave out a low moan. Immediately she whipped away, aimed, and fired, killing the nearest half dozen zombies. She craned her neck again, and Parker was still there, grinning at her.

"Nice shot, sweetie." Sarah stared awe-struck, then realized the zombies were advancing from behind her as well, and were headed straight for her fiancee. She dropped half the horde with precise head shots before her guns needed to be reloaded. Searching her person, Sarah realized she had no more ammo.

"Er, you seem like you'd know how to use this better than I would." Sarah glanced up at Parker, and noticed for the first time the shotgun strapped across his chest. Withholding a gleeful smile, Sarah grabbed the weapon and began once again to fire at the surrounding mass. By the time she ran out of ammo again, the crowd had been eradicated. Sarah turned to Parker, still holding the shotgun loosely.

"What are you doing here?" Sarah's mind was racing. Where was she? What had happened to Nathon? Had she lost Elliot? But these thoughts were forgotten as the familiar laugh she loved rang through her ears.

"I was hoping you could tell me. Where did you learn to shoot like that?"

Flustering, Sarah tried to come up with an excuse, then realized that was idiotic at a time like this. The only secret she had ever kept from Parker had been her career, and she had meant to reveal that to him sometime after the wedding. She wanted to protect him from the knowledge of cannibalistic ghouls for as long as possible, and especially from the fact that she was perhaps the best equipped person in the entire country to defeat them. There was no reason for him to be worried about her. But now, with those same monsters having had them surrounded not five minutes ago, there was no point in hiding anything from him.

Of course, it could probably wait until they found a safer place to talk.

"I'll explain later I promise, but now we really need to move, there's probably more on the-" Sarah was cut short by the feeling of Parker's arms around her. Dropping the shotgun, she wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned her head against his shoulder.

"I didn't think I'd see you again."

"That's silly, Sarah." Sarah lifted her head to look into his eyes. He leaned his forehead onto hers. "I can't stay away from you for long. I'm just clingy like that." Sarah closed her eyes as he leaned his face closer to hers...

Then she awoke with a start, sitting up quickly in bed. Jimmy, who had been purring peaceably on her chest was now startled with his hairs on end. Sarah grabbed him quickly before he could run away and hugged him tightly to her chest, resisting the urge to gently rock forward and back. She'd had the same dream for weeks now, and she kept telling herself she would get over them, but she knew she never would. She stroked the cat with a determination to calm down, until eventually the cat had fallen back asleep, and Sarah found she was able to lie back down. Fiercely closing her eyes, Sarah tried without success to get back to sleep, just as she had done every night for the past month.


	13. Chapter Negative Three

Chapter -3

Elliot sat in her office, the sound of her agents controlling the ever-present zombie threat barely audible through the door to her office. It was about 10:00, and she had forgotten to grab a muffin on the way out the door this morning. The growling of her stomach didn't help as Elliot went over Aimee Fritz's visit from the day before.

She had seemed a bit out of touch during the whole tour, but Elliot knew staying out of touch was simply something one did when it came to dealing with impossible things like zombies. Elliot hadn't seen her leave, but assumed Timelyson had finished her explanations while Elliot had been out to lunch. Her stomach growled once again at the thought of food.

Elliot grabbed her purse and pulled out a couple of dollars, stuffed them into her pocket, and left her office. The doors on either side of her own were closed, and the cubicles were occupied with focused faces diligently checking weapon supply and possible sightings of the reanimated, working out how to build zombie-proof houses, and waiting tirelessly for a message signaling the inevitable next outbreak.

Elliot walked past all this, receiving a few "Good morning, Ms. Greenwall"s as she did so. She reached the front of the large space, where the vending machines hummed quietly next to the elevator doors. She examined the contents, choosing a bag of potato chips she knew would be only half full and would just leave her hungrier than before.

As she put in her dollar, she noticed the elevator number light up. She punched in the number of her selection. As the coil twisted to release her chips, the elevator door opened, revealing a number of men and women holding dark plastic gun-shaped devices. Of course, Elliot knew exactly what they were, and before she could shout out a warning to the rest of the agents, a woman aimed and hit Elliot squarely in the forehead. She slumped to the floor, just as the bag of chips fell to the bottom of the machine.

...

Sarah heard the first shouts of alarm from her seat at her desk. She immediately grabbed her pepper spray, and ran to look out the door. Fritz's squad was in the room, attacking her agents. They were streaming out of the elevator, and Sarah saw a glimpse of an unconscious red haired figure on the floor.

Sarah cursed, ducked, and sprinted to her left. She ran bent over, at the level of the desks, and stayed out of the sight of the squad. She rounded the corner to the back elevator, flattening herself against the wall. She slammed the button with her fist, praying she hadn't been noticed yet. She held her pepper spray tightly, ready for any oncoming squad member. From her perspective around the corner, she could see the darts being fired into the heads of her coworkers, and immediately recognized the weaponry being used.

God damn memory wipes! That technology was developed solely for their department; it was standard issue on the field. All outbreak survivors were issued a dart. There was no use having them scarred by cannibalistic monsters for the rest of their lives, or telling the world about them. It would cause panic, and misinformation. The key to taking down the reanimated was keeping them a secret.

But to have their own weapon of mercy used against them like this made Sarah sick. It was all she could do not to run out there and take every one of those bastards out herself. She could hear the elevator doors opening and closing, and knew more and more were arriving.

Suddenly, the doors behind her slid apart, and she stepped back, pressing the close-door button. As she descended infuriatingly slowly, questions swarmed her head. What the hell had happened? Why the hell was the department being terminated? She pushed her thoughts aside as the elevator stopped and the doors opened. The lab was still untouched, but she knew it wouldn't be for long. There was an emergency exit down here that led into the subway line.

For a moment Sarah was torn between escaping quickly or finding Timelyson and warning her, but Sarah knew there would never be enough time for both of them to make it. Sarah also knew there was no way she was leaving this place alone. Zombie defense was her life, and she couldn't get fulfill her sole purpose by herself, she wouldn't even be able to convince anyone that these creatures even existed on her own. And at the back of her mind, she already knew that revenge was going to be necessary, and she couldn't pull that off alone either.

Sarah turned right and ran down the hallway, opening all the doors as she did so. All the examination and storage rooms were empty of people, and Sarah screamed in frustration. She couldn't be the only one who got out of here with their memory intact. The red exit sign at the end of the hallway glowed faintly red, and as Sarah reached it, she opened the door to the last room, to find a man with dark hair and a grey lab coat, who looked up with surprise as she entered.

She reached into the room, grabbed him by the arm and slammed into the exit door, just as she heard the elevator doors down the hallway begin to open. She pulled the man through the door and out into the chill air of the tunnel. She continued to drag him along, ignoring his protests.

They turned a corner and Sarah paused to listen. She heard no footsteps, and assumed they had gotten away. She turned to the man, who was staring at her agape.

"What the hell?" He asked. He was stooped over, trying to catch his breath. That's when Sarah realized he wasn't wearing a lab coat. He has wearing a grey jumpsuit. She knew something was wrong.

"What division are you with?" Sarah asked angrily, grabbing the man by the front of his suit, pulling him upright.

"Wh- what?" The man was terrified.

"Are you with research or what? I know you're not with annihilation. Who the hell are you?" He answered as Sarah noticed his name tag.

"Nathon, I, uh, I'm a-"

"What?" Sarah was impatient to hear the answer she suspected would top off the past events, and completely ruin her future.

"I'm a, a janitor." The man squeaked. Sarah dropped him to the ground, glaring at him with a fury that consumed her. It hit her that she would not be able to return home. She had surely been at the top of the list to be taken down, and home would be the most dangerous place to escape to.

She could imagine the sole picture on her desk of her small family- her fiance and herself grinning, with her cat in her arms. She blinked away tears, and looked up to the nearby ladder that she knew led to the street. She looked at the cowering young man again.

"The past ten minutes just ruined my life." She told him. He just looked up at her, horrified. "Do you even know what we were doing in there?" He shook his head. "We were keeping the human race alive. And now," she laughed grimly. "Now we'll just see what happens." She was quiet for a moment.

"I need a place to stay." She looked down at him once more. "Get up. You're coming with me."


	14. Chapter Ten

Chapter 10

Nathon munched on the last packet of crackers thoughtfully. The sun had risen an hour or two ago, but that was the only thing that gave him any idea of what time it was. He had only recently gotten over the habit of looking at the clocks that had all stopped at 1:48 in the morning. Not that time really mattered anymore- Nathon had even lost track of what the date was. He was fairly sure that they had been living under Elliot's roof for about a month and a half, which meant it was mid June. It had been at least three or four weeks since the night he had spent outside.

He had since stopped wearing his jacket, because the of the sudden warm summer weather and lack of air conditioning, so now he wore a mostly clean white t-shirt and his old jeans, which Elliot had confiscated a week or two ago to clean and mend. The patches sewed over the holes in the knees were made of a clashing color of denim, but Nathon didn't really mind. Just as Nathon was vaguely beginning to wonder where the girls were, Elliot walked into the kitchen, putting up her hair in a pony tail.

"Morning, Nathon." She mumbled through teeth clenched down over a hair band while her hands were futilely trying to brush back her hair smoothly. Giving up, she sat down next to Nathon, peered into the empty cracker box, then snatched the last one from the pack Nathon had opened. "I need a haircut," Elliot huffed, and with a sideways glance at Nathon, "Looks like you do too." Elliot stood up and opened a few cabinets, looking for something else to eat, but Nathon already knew her search would come up short. He also knew what that meant for him.

"I do believe food is a much more pressing matter, however." Elliot's quiet counting of the dozen or so cans and bottles of water was audible to Nathon as he swallowed the last of his breakfast. By the time she turned around, Nathon knew what she was going to say. "Time for another grocery run, I'm afraid." Nathon groaned and slumped with is head in his arms on the table.

"I really dislike those." He muttered. He could hear Elliot walk around the table and sit in the chair next to him. He felt her hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah, I know you do. We kind of need you, though."

Nathon sat up, "Why?" He asked. "Bait? To run around asking for zombies to go ahead and take a bite?" Nathon began speaking in a high pitched mocking tone, "Oh, don't worry about Nathon, he's immune, it's okay if they eat off his arm while we go around with our guns and zombie fighting skills and do the easy job." He entered his normal tone again. "Not to sound self-centered or anything, but shouldn't I be kept safe as possible? Isn't there like, the key to saving humanity in my blood?"

Elliot shook her head. "First of all, you aren't bait. And I won't ask you to do anything more than I expect you're able to. Second, yes, you probably are important. But have you looked outside recently? There are almost no reanimated running around here anymore. They've gone back to the city. We've got to be the only people still in the suburbs. And you can work a gun now, too. You've gotten enough practice. You could probably even go out on your own-"

"WHAT." Nathon's voice involuntarily got louder at the realization that Elliot would even think about letting him go out there by himself. "No. I cannot go out on my own, that's ridiculous. No way."

"If you'd stop your whining and learn to shoot a gun with confidence you could do it." Nathon turned around to glare at Sarah, who had entered the room unheard. Her sudden entrances never seemed to phase him anymore. It turns out that everything can be gotten used to. However, her return glare was more than enough reason to remember why he still followed her orders, and he quickly looked away.

"Your advantage can either be looked at one of two ways- as a cure or as the best defense against fighting those monsters on your own. And if there was anyone who had the resources and knowledge to derive some kind of cure or vaccine from you, chances are they aren't exactly on the side of the living anymore. You aren't all that important."

"Why is everyone acting more insane than usual?" Nathon was standing now, fighting the urge to flail his arms around in frustration. "You guys are like killing machines, and I'm just some poor loser that got dragged here to run a camera. That alone outweighs this stupid immunity of mine."

"It was only a suggestion, sheesh." Elliot rolled her eyes. I said I wouldn't ask you to do anything more than I would expect from you, and I wouldn't even want to go out there alone if it could be helped. Besides, you can't carry enough on your own to make the trip worth it. We have three people, two dogs, and a cat in this house." Elliot glanced at Jimmy, who was sitting proudly at Sarah's feet. "If we want enough food to last us more than a week, we'll need more than what you can carry on a bike- huh." Elliot cut herself off and seemed to go into her own thoughts. She walked over to a window and looked outside, creating an awkward silence that Nathon filled by continuing to avoid Sarah's gaze, but he could see her look at him with utter contempt, her arms crossed across her chest as she leaned against the door frame, tapping a heeled shoe against the wood floor, out of the corner of his eye.

"You know," Elliot called from the window, "We could probably take a car. The reanimated really have dispersed, and my hybrid is pretty quiet." She returned to her seat once again, a look almost resembling excitement on her face. "We can carry much more in there, and we wouldn't all have to go. In fact, if only one or two of us went, there'd be more room to load the car."

"Sweet!" said Nathon, immediately lightening up, "Count me out. I'll stay here and open the door for you guys." Nathon sat back down in the chair, relieved.

"Not so fast, shorty." Sarah's grating voice ripped into Nathon's relief. "If it's space we're worried about, you're the smallest, so you're definitely going. Also, whoever is left to defend the house should be able to actually defend it." Nathon was tempted to glare at her again but couldn't muster the courage. He knew she was right, and glancing at Elliot, it was obvious from her sympathizing expression that she knew it too. With a sigh, Nathon stood up again.

"Let me get some shoes, dammit."


	15. Chapter Eleven

Chapter 11

Five minutes later, Elliot was standing in the garage, keys in hand. She had been a bit surprised to find that it took her a few minutes to recall where she had last placed her keys. She eventually found them in a basket that had been sitting forgotten on the first floor kitchen counter. Elliot had also located a brush and pulled her hair back, and put on some shorts and a tank top. It couldn't have been past ten o' clock, but already it was getting hot outside. Fanning herself with her journal, Elliot unlocked her car and peered inside for the first time in several weeks.

It was just as empty as it had been when she left it. There was no evidence at all that implied anything about Elliot. Nothing about her job or hobbies or personality. She looked over the back seat to the trunk empty of everything but a tire changing kit. She opened the glove box to see nothing but car registration papers. She placed her gun on the dashboard and put the keys in the ignition just as Nathon entered the garage.

He entered on the passenger side, and picked up the other gun Elliot had placed on the seat. He sat down and Elliot put the car in reverse. She opened the garage door and backed out slowly, keeping an eye out for any reanimated that might have been huddled around the gate. With the window rolled down and her hand on her gun, Elliot drove slowly out of the driveway and onto the street. The only reanimated visible were at the end of the block, and had only just noticed them. Elliot was going to wait to drive up closer and get a better shot, but before she could even shift into drive, they both fell to the ground, shot from the house. Glancing at the second story windows, Elliot just caught a glimpse of Sarah's hand smugly wave before being pulled back inside the window frame. Sarah could show off all she wanted, it wasn't going to intimidate Elliot. In fact, Elliot was started to get pretty annoyed with all of her gun slinging. She glanced at Nathon, who simply shrugged in response.

As they started the slow drive down the street and around the corner, Nathon asked what the plan was.

"Same as last time, really. Except we'll be getting even more supplies and it'll probably smell even worse in there. We want to grab all the bottled water left on the shelves, and also any of the cans and dried food. There's no hope for any more milk or produce, but we can get ingredients to make our own bread. We also need to check the storage in the back. We weren't as thorough last time because we were in a hurry and we didn't have a lot of space on the bikes. I'm actually pretty surprised we were able to live off of that food for this long."

"Alright then." It sounded like this trip would go more smoothly than the last one, at least. Elliot pulled into the parking lot and drove as close as she could to the entrance, backing up so the rear of the car was only a few feet from the automatic doors. Elliot and Nathon stepped out from the car, and cautiously stepped inside the store. Elliot motioned for silence, and walked along the length of the front of the store, looking down each of the aisles, poised to fire. She looked down the last aisle and was a bit surprised to find that the store seemed to be completely abandoned.

"Weird." Elliot mused as she walked back over to Nathon, who looked relieved to not have to shoot anything.

"Looks like there's no one here. The place isn't even ransacked, I don't think anyone else has been here since our last trip." Elliot let her troubled mind wander for a moment before Nathon cleared his throat and she snapped out of it. "Right. Let's get started."

Nathon found he was having a little too much fun strolling down the aisles with his cart, using an outstretched hand to push everything on the shelf that looked to be of any use into the cart without any effort. By the time he had gone up and down three of the twenty or so aisles he found that his basket was full. He exited the aisle and walked to the entrance, giving a wide berth to the Pharmacy counter. Elliot had taken a cart behind some swing doors marked "Employees Only", and told Nathon to get the food and that she would take care of getting pet supplies and everything else.

The automatic doors opened and Nathon threw all the boxes of rice, crackers, and noodles into the trunk somewhat carelessly. He was just turning his cart around and was going to go get some more food when he heard Elliot scream from the back of the store. He ran toward the sound, pulling the gun from his belt.

Elliot was in the back of the building, where all the food soon to be shelved was stored, behind the walls that held the milk and yogurt. The room was dark and the ceiling was high, revealing the air conditioning and heating lines. It was dimly lit, the only light coming from small windows placed high up the bare cement walls. The smell of rotten dairy products was nauseating, and Elliot had her shirt pulled up over her nose. She had already looked through the area, but it too was devoid of reanimated. Digging through the crates stacked high in the back, Elliot knew there wasn't anything interesting back here. She was about to leave and go find some dog food when she heard loud banging from above.

Her hand reached for her gun instinctively, letting her shirt drop from her nose, which she instantly regretted. Rancid cheese had to be some of the worst smelling stuff in the world. She noticed in the far corner of the room a metal ladder screwed into the wall that led to the roof. The bangs were getting softer, but they were definitely coming from the roof. Oh, great, infected on the roof. How the hell would they even get up there? It must be stuck, or it would have just toppled off the roof already. Elliot walked over to the ladder and began to climb. The trap door above her wasn't even locked. Elliot made sure her balance was steady before pushing up the door and aiming her gun. Sure enough, there was an obviously infected man standing a few feet away from the door, moaning softly. He turned around at the sound of the trapdoor, but Elliot fired before she could see his face. This area was just as dark as the room she had come from, and Elliot realized the trapdoor was covered by another small room. The guy must have come to work sick and passed out up here before he could unlock the door and get out on the roof.

Other than the man now fully dead on the floor, this room was completely bare. Elliot sighed and started to step down the ladder. Just as she was about to drop the door, the man's head snapped back up, and his arm grabbed her wrist. Elliot yelled and yanked her arm away. A glimpse of his revealed that the shot she had made had only managed to skim the top of his head. Elliot fired again, making sure to cover her eyes and mouth as she did so, so none of its blood got into her system.

The only thing wrong with this action was that it meant she lost almost all grip on the ladder, and she barely had time to scream before tilting backwards, falling off, hitting her head on a crate, and landing unconscious on top of dozens of packages of decomposing cheese.


	16. Chapter Twelve

Chapter 12

Elliot woke up on a hospital bed, but only allowed her eyes to open for long enough to realize she was in some sort of clinic surrounded by strangely familiar faces also lying down hospital beds. Voices were coming her way, and she closed her eyes and pretended to remain unconscious while focusing on slowing her heart rate so as not to raise an alarm. She knew something wasn't right, and her head was killing her.

"You're telling me we're missing Jarmont, of all people? You understand that she is the worst possible person to lose, don't you?" Something about this woman's voice rang an alarm in Elliot's subconscious, arousing an impulse to stand up straighter and talk professionally. The voice also sounded like it belonged to a person who was on the verge of breaking down. The response that followed sounded scared out of its mind.

"Chief, that's not the only person we're missing. There's a janitor that's also unaccounted for."

"Who the hell cares about some janitor when we have a crazy mad-woman that is probably the most dangerous woman on the planet for me right now? And if anyone is dangerous to me, they're dangerous to you, Timelyson. Besides, those custodians don't have any idea what you guys are doing."

"Were doing. But ma'am, you don't understand. Jarmont might be the worst person on the world for you right now, but that janitor wasn't just some sad loser off the street, like the rest of the cleaning staff. He was a test subject in our most important study to date. He was found unconscious in an apartment building, the sole survivor of a small outbreak in Alaska. The ice stopped the infected from getting out of the town, but when the team arrived for clean-up the only person alive was this young college student locked in his own closet, passed out. He was covered in bites, but they were all several days old, much too long for him to still be alive. They almost shot him on the spot, but when they realized he was breathing they packed him up and brought him in. We treated him and even got rid of any scars. He had contracted the virus, but hadn't reanimated. So we wiped his memory, and we even got him a job. He thinks he dropped out of college, and works normal hours. What he doesn't know is that we would do tests at night then wipe his memory afterwards. It was top secret, and only I and two other people in the research department knew about it. Jarmont must have found out about it somehow and taken him hostage. She has a fiancée, ma'am. I know in most situations he would be the first place to look, but that janitor is more important than anything else right now." Timelyson was cut off by violent hacking from the chief.

"Chief Fritz, you only have about an hour left before we need to get you in isolation."

"Shut the hell up, Timelyson, this mess is all your fault. Goddammit, I am not going to die. You're damn lucky you convinced me that killing all these people wasn't as good a solution as wiping their memories. You have a few hours to come up with a cure, or you're left with an outbreak larger than you've ever seen and no annihilation squad to get rid of it and- did she just twitch? Aren't these people comatose for the next six hours?"

Elliot's head erupted into a string of curses as she tried to remain still, but could feel her heart beginning to race.

"I think Elliot is coming out of it, chief."

"Dammit, of course Greenwall would be the one to wake up early. Wipe her, Timelyson. I think we're done here. You know how to contact me. Get that janitor, and get Jarmont, or all hell will break loose and you'll have no one to blame but yourself."

Elliot flinched as she felt a needle insert in her neck, and her eyes opened to look directly into Timelyson's face, who stared back in horror. Elliot blacked out before she could even hear Timelyson begin to apologize.

Nathon ran into the back room, and saw Elliot sprawled over several crates that smelled terrible. When he reached her, she was unconscious, and there was a zombie with its face blown in hanging from a trap door more than ten feet above them, dripping dangerously near to Elliot's unprotected face. He quickly pulled her towards him and away from the ladder and area anywhere remotely near the zombie. A quick examination of Elliot verified that she wasn't bleeding and was breathing. Nathon grabbed her under her knees and around her shoulders, and he carried her to the front of the store.

With some difficulty he opened the backseat door to her car and placed her inside across the seats. She looked to be okay, but he wasn't going to take any chances. He refused to stay in that house alone with Sarah. He closed the door carefully, made sure the trunk was shut, and got into the driver's seat, where he rejoiced to find that Elliot had left the keys on the dash. He turned on the ignition and exited the parking lot, driving as fast as he dared back to Elliot's house.

He kept an eye on Elliot in the rear view mirror, who appeared to be stirring. As he looked up to turn the corner onto Elliot's block, he immediately regretted it. Disbelief and terror consumed him as he braked sharply at the sight of the scores of zombie huddled around the gates, and at Sarah standing on the roof, shooting at them with fervor.


	17. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter 13

Elliot's eyes shot open and she flung herself into a sitting position, hands rushing to her neck frantically. Nathon leapt back from his position in front of the backseat, where he had been shaking her awake. Elliot took in the expression of total terror in his widened green eyes and reached for the gun in her pocket. "What's going on?" She asked in a voice that barely managed to cover her own alarm. "Where are we?"

Nathon opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out as he gestured out the windshield. As the situation they were in became clear, Elliot fought the urge to join Nathon in his fit of hysteria. They were in the middle of the road a hundred feet from her driveway. Half way between them and the house an enormous mob of infected began, and a number of the zombies at the back had begun to notice the idling hybrid behind them.

Elliot quickly weighed her options before shoving Nathon out of the way and maneuvering herself into the driver's seat and slamming the accelerator, steering right into the crowd.

…

Sarah had been in the library when she heard the gate slam. She had thought that perhaps Elliot and Nathon had had some mishap and were knocking to get in, but the sound continued at an increasing volume and force, and Sarah's walk towards the balcony became a run. The dogs were positioned at the end of the railing, barking and growling with such ferocity that Jimmy, who had been following Sarah, yowled and ran back down the hallway with his hair on end.

Sarah slid down the rope, rushed to the front door, and opened it, turning the noise into a cacophony. A horde of dozens of dead were moving as a wave against the steel gate. Sarah cursed as she saw the hinges begin to give. She spun around and slammed the door behind her, ascended the rope, and ran through the kitchen and dining room, grabbing a box of ammunition from the counter as she called for Jimmy. She ran up the stairs and into Elliot's room where she threw open a window, taking a moment to kick off her heels before stepping onto the roof, followed closely by her cat.

She carefully edged her way over the eaves of the roof towards the front of the house, just in time to see the gate fall. She pulled both guns she had tucked into the waistband of her slacks and began to fire, but she only succeeded in barely slowing the seemingly endless flow of intruders. She had just begun to reload for the second time when she heard the hybrid rev and ram into the horde. She let this distract her for only a moment before continuing her shooting, now focusing on the figures that clung to the vehicle and now begun to claw at it.

…

"Why the fuck did you do that?" Nathon screamed as the car came to a halt a few feet away from the garage door. "Were you planning on walking through the crowd of zombies?" Elliot screamed back, as she waited for the last of the infected on top of the hybrid to roll off before opening the sunroof and starting to shoot into the still incredibly intimidating number between them and the house. Nathon scrambled for his own weapon and joined her. Elliot reloaded with ammunition in her pockets before climbing onto the roof for a better position while Nathon covered her, then followed suit.

By the time the two had almost run out of ammo, there were still a half dozen zombies directly between them and a scalable spot on the wall. Elliot and Nathon shared a glance before Elliot took a deep breath and grabbed Nathon's hand before leaping off the car and into the crowd. Nathon ended up recovering first and dragged Elliot behind her as he forced his way through the crowd, firing when he had a good shot, using the butt of the pistol when he could, and trying his best to attract the most attention.

They were only a few feet away from the wall when Nathon's arm was yanked back and he lost his grip on Elliot's hand. He whipped around just as Elliot let out a scream. A male zombie in a torn and stained button-down had her by the ponytail and was inches away from her neck when Nathon aimed and fired, blowing his brains in a gruesome splatter over the other zombies behind him. He fell to the ground with his hand still tangled in Elliot's hair. Nathon rushed to her as the zombies around them began converging.

By the time he reached her, she had managed to disentangle herself but they were surrounded once more. Pulling Elliot to her feet, Nathon once again began trying to drag her through the crowd. As he made a move to knock the last zombie between them and the wall, it grabbed Nathon's hand and brought it to its mouth and bit down as Nathon let out a yell.

Before it could pull back, the top half of its head was blown away by a bullet that must have come from Sarah. Nathon freed his hand from the mess and pulled Elliot ahead of him to boost her up the wall, hoping Sarah was taking care of the zombies behind them. When she reached the top of the wall she stopped dead and called down to Nathon. "They're in the yard! How do we get in?" Her voice was shrill and as Nathon pulled himself out of the reach of the grabbing hands behind him, trying his best to ignore the fire emanating from his hand, he looked for a way to get inside. Looking further down the wall, he saw that it connected to the garage and with a boost one of them could get on to its roof and from there pull the other up and climb into the house by window.

Following Elliot, he balanced his way along the thin ledge and reached the conjunction of the wall and garage. With his instruction, Elliot steadied herself against the siding of the garage and cupped her hands, allowing Nathon to pull himself onto the roof, where he then leaned down, and, grimacing at the pressure on his bleeding hand, pulled Elliot up with him. As the percussion of Sarah's gunfire continued, the two made it to the window and though it was stuck edged it open far enough to slip through, finding themselves in Nathon's room.

Elliot slid down the wall she had ended up leaning against, ending up huddled with her knees to her chin. Her eyes spun around wildly and looked on the verge of tears. Nathon slammed the window shut and crouched down next to her and was at a loss of what to do as the door banged open to reveal a wind-blown Sarah with boxes of ammunition cradled in her arms.

"The hell are you waiting for?" she asked.

…

The next hours were spent in a blur of aiming and firing, aiming and firing, in a hypnotic and gruesome pattern. Nathon found himself catching glimpses of Elliot, but her stare remained vacant, and her motions remained automatic and calculated. The zombies had broken into the first floor, and when the yard had been cleared, the trio migrated to the balcony and cleared that as well. Though Elliot refused to descend the rope, Nathon and Sarah managed to at least drag out the bodies and prop the gate back up with barricades taken from the first floor windows in a reasonable amount of time, finishing as the sun began to set.

Exiting through the garage, Nathon found the car still running and with only slight hesitation drove the car into the garage, despite the number of bodies in the way. Sarah helped bring in the bags Nathon had packed into the back, and Elliot bandaged his wounded hand through her stupor. After a silent meal of crackers and peanut butter, Elliot went up to her room. Sarah shortly went to her own room, followed by Jimmy, leaving Nathon with no one but the dogs at his feet to ask what would happen next.


	18. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter 14

Nathon woke up in a frenzy, flinging himself into a sitting position as a result of a dream that ended in him falling from some great height. He took a deep breath and focused on tuning down his blood pressure while he rubbed his eyes in an effort to adjust them to the eerie light from the full moon outside his bedroom window. Listening carefully, Nathon could tell that the few moans outside the open window were coming from beyond the wall, which meant that the barricade hadn't been broken. Scooting his feet out from beneath the slumbering dog at the end of the bed, Nathon steadied himself before standing up, careful to nurse his injured hand.

More for a reason not to go back to sleep than for something to eat, Nathon decided to wander into the kitchen and maybe just take stock of the food they had gathered before he had rushed Elliot home. Nathon paused at the thought. Who would have thought the first place he'd call home in years was surrounded by hordes of zombies and was shared with a psychopath and someone who had only become slightly less of a mystery in the month that they had known each other? Shaking his head to be rid of the notion and to clear his mind, Nathon stepped out into the hallway.

Turning the corner from the railing to avoid catching a glimpse of the mess below, Nathon was startled by the light coming from the dining room. Quietly, he stepped down the hallway and peeked around the opening. Sniffling quietly, Elliot was sitting at the table, resting her head on her folded arms. There was a mirror in front of her and a pair of scissors in her hand. Small clumps of red hair were scattered about on the floor and table top.

Nathon stepped into the room and sat next to her, placing his uninjured hand on her shoulder, which she flinched at before snapping her head up and clenching her hand around the scissors. Nathon pulled his hand back quickly, but Elliot's expression of anxiety and fear crumpled into such a sincerely pitiful face when she saw him that Nathon replaced it immediately.

She released the scissors which clattered to the table and covered her mouth to stifle a sob before she spoke.

"I was just, uhm," Nathon could hear in her voice that she had only just stopped what must have been a heavy cry. "Just taking inventory." She finished the statement with difficulty. "What are you doing up?" She tried unsuccessfully to wipe away some of the tears that seemed to replenish themselves as soon as they were brushed away or dried.

"I couldn't sleep." Nathon replied. He took in Elliot's matted hair that had once fallen smmothly a few inches below her shoulders and now was only barely chin length, ragged, and unevenly cut. "So. Uhm."

"I just couldn't really sleep either, so I decided I might as well cut my hair, because it's getting kind of long and that's obviously not very safe-" her voice broke at the last word and she had to pause a few minutes before continuing. "You saved my life twice today, and all I've done is get you bitten again."

"You're kidding, right? If you hadn't let us in at the beginning of this mess I'd be dead several times over. Besides, it's not that big of a deal, I can handle it. It's why I'm here- it's the only thing I'm all that useful for. It wasn't that bad of a bite anyway. That zombie's jaw was coming loose."

"That's not the point. I should be able to take care of myself, but I'm not doing so well. I don't know what I'm doing. I have a journal full of instructions that I don't remember writing. When I blacked out today I had this dream, but it wasn't a dream. I know that it actually happened, but I have no idea what it means. Someone took my memories and I need to get them back."

"You're basing this off of a dream?"

"I know it sounds insane but this wasn't a dream. This was real, this was a memory. I woke up on a hospital bed and heard these voices talking about me and someone named Jarmont-".

"Wait, that's Sarah's last name. What else did you hear?"

"Not much else, something about a janitor."

Nathon's face went pale. "What about a janitor?"

Elliot's brow scrunched as she made an effort to remember. "Something about an immunity, I guess you're not the only one. They took him in after an outbreak and wiped his memory and gave him a job so they could do tests on him."

Nathon's voice went lower. "Shit. That would explain some things."

Elliot looked up quickly. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Uh. I worked at a place that shut down pretty recently, and apparently Sarah worked there too. There was an incident, and she got me out, and I've been 'employed' by her ever since." Nathon couldn't help but insert sarcasm at the word describing his and Sarah's relationship. "Employment" implied some sort of compensation.

"Where?" Elliot's eyes still hadn't quite dried but they were bright now and lost the piteous look from before. Her voice was still rough from crying but had an edge to it that startled Nathon.

"It's a building in town, but it's below ground and you need a card to get in. Sarah and I got out by an exit to the subway. She would know how to get in." Nathon found himself already making plans on how to get there. "If you think it would help, we can go back when she gets up. We're less than safe here anyway, I don't think that barricade is going to last. We can take your car and get there pretty quickly as long as there aren't any traffic blockades or anything. Sarah and I ran into one or two on the way here but they were pretty haphazard and might have been taken down already."

"You want to wake her up or should I?"

Nathon thought about what Sarah would be like this early in the morning. "Let's let her sleep in.


	19. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter 15

When Sarah opened her bedroom door that morning, she couldn't help but be a bit shocked at the sight of Nathon waiting for her. Quickly recovering, she stretched nonchalantly with a yawn. "Get a good night's sleep, Nathon?"

"Not really. We need to talk to you." Nathon kept a stony expression, crossing his arms over his chest.

"About what? Don't we have things to do today?" Sarah began to glare.

"Elliot knows you know who she is." Sarah's eyebrows rose, and her eyes darkened. "She wants to know what you know and we want to go back to the office building." Sarah glared at him a few seconds more before brushing past him, grabbing an energy bar from the kitchen, and then walking into the library, where Elliot was dozing.

Nathon followed her, taking a seat on the couch next to Elliot, while Sarah sat down in a chair across the dimly lit room, the only light source the east-facing window and the faint dawn light. As Sarah munched on the power bar, Elliot and Nathon told her what they knew. When they were done, Sarah continued to eat thoughtfully.

"I'm not going back there," Sarah said after swallowing her last bite of breakfast, "there's no reason to and it's dangerous, and not only because we could get eaten just trying to get there. That building is just as fortified as this one, and who knows who might be holed up in there."

"Those are all good points, Sarah," Elliot said, glowering, "but I'm not really inclined to trust you. For the entire time you've been staying here, under my roof and my protection, you've neglected to mention that you know who I am and what happened to me. Obviously, you have your own motives and your own secrets to keep, but I only care about the ones that concern me, as I have every right to. So you can tell me what you know, or we can just go and find out ourselves."

Sarah remained silent, weighing her options. Whether Elliot believed her or not, there probably really were people holed up in the office. "Tell me this dream or memory or whatever it was you had."

Elliot sighed. "It's fuzzy. My eyes were closed most of the time; I just heard a conversation between two people, they were both women. One was in charge; she was referred to as 'chief'. The other was Tim-something. They said something about you missing, and the other explained how Nathon was a secret test subject. They thought you'd kidnapped him, I think. The boss was sick, maybe she had the virus- the other said something about putting her in isolation."

Sarah perked up. "Well that's informative." After a slight pause, she continued. "Here are the basics. Elliot, you were the head of a top-secret division of the CIA that studied and maintained zombies, the undead, the reanimated, what have you. If your memory really is a memory, and not just some brain-trauma induced hallucination, then yes, Fritz, or the chief, was probably somehow infected about a month before we showed up on your doorstep. She had visited the department as our supervisor, and had spent most of the time down in research, which was headed by Timelyson, the other woman you heard. She was third in command, behind you and I. I was head of the annihilation squad, and all that that implies." Sarah examined her nails. "Our department had developed a technology to wipe memories, a useful tool in our line of work, as you can imagine. Fritz used it against us. I was there the next day when a team came in and wiped the entire department. I was able to escape, and, as you know, I grabbed Nathon on the way out. I thought he worked in research, I didn't know he was just a janitor." Sarah resisted the urge to glare at him.

"So you didn't kidnap me?" Nathon asked, even though he wouldn't believe any answer she gave him.

"I did not. I was trying to save you."

Elliot asked the question that had plagued her mind for six weeks. "And why did you come here?"

Sarah stared at her blankly for a moment. "Where the hell else was I supposed to go? Do you know of a more fortified house? A more prepared person?" Sarah laughed harshly. "Even with your memory wiped you know what you're doing. You've got your notes."

Elliot instinctively hugged her stomach and the concealed journal tucked into her belt.

"You may have lost the knowledge you needed to survive, but you made sure beforehand that in the worst-case scenario you could relearn it. A smart plan, I had a similar book."

Nathon noticed Elliot's face begin to crumple. Obviously, she was coming undone again, she'd had enough revelations for one day. "Thank you, Sarah, for sharing with us. Now we know where we came from. But now we need to focus on how to get back." Nathon said. "We can get in from the subway, right?"

Sarah looked through the window to the now almost-risen sun. "If we're going today we need to leave within the hour." Sarah stood up. "Better pull yourself together, Greenwall. We've got work to do."


End file.
